Rem Returns
by Eden Evergreen
Summary: (VQL # 3) 45 years post-manga, a reunion occurs... after 18 years of quiet life and 25 years of a long road to home. (Some spoilers)
1. Rem

_I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to Yasuhiro Nightow._

_This tale begins 45 years post-manga (different final battle and results than in the anime). If you do not yet know why Vash believed Rem was dead, or who Vash fought so many times (including the final battle), __**this story contains spoilers**__._

**Rem**

Rem awoke and lay staring at the ceiling. All was quiet, so Vash and their hostess probably hadn't wakened yet.

She could scarcely believe the strange turn her life had taken.

The appearance of the boys astonished enough by itself, back on the mother ship. Then she'd spent a wonderful year of watching them grow and getting to know the two of them, until their discovery of Tessla.

Tough times followed that discovery. Vash eventually let her help him through it, but Knives pulled away from both of them. She was worried about him, but had not known what to do. She'd hoped that, in time, he'd allow her to help him as Vash had.

Time abruptly ran out. The ships had turned toward a planet, on a crash course. She'd gotten the boys into an escape pod and seen it leave the ship, so they should both be safe.

Rem had paused barely long enough to take the precaution of diving into outer-space suit, so that she could work as long as possible. The suit's refrigeration could buy her time to finish what was needed before... well, in case she couldn't survive.

She'd run for the controls, and begun to wrestle with them. That's where her memory winked out.

She dimly recalled a vague sense of movement, searing pain, and inarticulate voices. The next thing she knew, she was waking up from cryo sleep.

She was told that these people's ancestors had discovered her near their village, so badly burned that she was more nearly dead than alive. They could not in good conscience leave her there to expire, but they were unable to cure her. They'd put her into cryo sleep and hoped that a future generation would have the resources to care for her. She'd slept there, as a nameless burn victim, for 195 years.

She told them her name, and asked after Vash and Knives.

To her surprise, a young female assistant standing nearby had gently hugged her and welcomed her to the world. The girl said that Vash was coming, and would be delighted to learn she was alive.

Rem didn't know how they had healed her. Nobody was sharing details. They only said that she needed to concentrate on learning how to use her regenerated body.

Most of her muscles were newly regenerated and would function like the muscles of a newborn, they warned. Her body wouldn't know what to do. She would need to learn how to move all over again. They hadn't exaggerated.

She was grateful that she had this second chance at life. Yet she was puzzled by many things about this world where she found herself.

For example, there was a mostly functional seeds ship hovering over a sea of sand. It was there, plain to see, yet nearly everyone called it "lost technology." Since it was there, and functioning, how was it lost?

Somehow, she'd gone from being nearly burned to death to being whole. She didn't even have any scars. She'd been bald when she waked, but her hair was growing back.

If it really had been 195 years, she had wondered ... could the man who was coming truly be her Vash? Or was he, perhaps, a descendant? She knew that plants could live that long, but Vash had never been sustained in an orb. She had no idea what to expect.

Nobody would tell her anything about Knives. Most people said Vash wasn't expected until sometime next year, though the girl at her awakening had confidently stated that he was on his way. She'd later learned that the girl's name was Shyla.

As it turned out, the girl Shyla was correct. But how had she known?

When Rem asked Shyla about Knives, she'd looked worried. "Probably best you ask Vash," she said, "but please, I beg you, don't ask him right away when first you see him. Let him have a few days to get used to you being alive first. Please."

"Is Knives ... dead?" Rem had nearly choked on the word.

"We don't know," the girl had replied, very softly. "No body has ever been found. Vash blames himself... I've said too much already, please - let it alone. Get yourself better, first. These other things, they can wait."

She had been compelled to be content with that, for the present.

Rem was kept in the infirmary until she gained some skill in using her hands. After that, Shyla had invited her to her home.

To be truthful, Rem was eager to get out of the antiseptic environment of the infirmary. It brought back painful memories of Tessla. So she'd accepted Shyla's invitation.

Rem had asked, the day before leaving the infirmary, what sort of girl Shyla was. She'd been told the girl was a natural nurse: gentle, caring, quiet and competent. She's the kind of girl that half the world would overlook, simply because she was so quiet.

Rem also learned that Vash himself brought Shyla to this village, about 20 years ago. Ever since, when he visited, he stayed in her house. She was told that if she really wanted to know more about Shyla, the best people to ask were either Vash or Shyla herself.

She wondered where Vash found this girl, and why he would take charge of her. She'd asked if Shyla was Vash's daughter, which made her informant laugh. "No," Rem was told. "The girl's mother was dying, and didn't want the girl to grow up alone in a rough town. She asked Vash to take her somewhere safe. He brought her here."

Shyla appeared to be in her late teens or early twenties, so perhaps she'd also spent some time in cold sleep. It made sense that Vash would take a child to a place of safety. It didn't explain why her house was his home whenever he came here, though.

Shyla was so gentle and quiet that one could almost forget she was there. Her pleasantly plain face and pale hazel eyes were kind. Her abundant hair was an appealing shade of golden blonde.

Perhaps Vash found her quietness and good cooking restful?

Shyla was a better than average cook, which helped Rem to struggle through the process of rebooting her digestive system. The infirmary food had not been tempting enough to be worth wrestling with the nausea and indigestion.

Rem's hostess kept to herself enough that her home did make a reasonably comfortable place to recover, even when recovery included re-learning how to walk. Oddly enough, any time that Rem needed help with anything, Shyla had a way of appearing without being asked.

It was a pleasant house. It had two bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, and a larger room between them that provided kitchen, sitting and eating areas.

Like many dwellings here, this one was partially dug into the side of a hill or cliff surrounding the valley where the Seeds ship hovered. It had wide windows on the one wall that faced toward the valley. Overall, the place was spacious enough to be comfortable, but small enough to be cozy.

Each evening, Shyla would read aloud to her from a history book. That was helpful, since it allowed Rem to begin understanding a few things about how this world worked.

Rem had badgered Shyla with questions about Vash, since Knives seemed to be a forbidden topic.

"He's had a difficult life," she would say. "It has scarred him, yet he is gentle and kind and thoughtful toward others. He still loves you dearly. You'll be proud of him."

That was all she could pry out of the girl, until yesterday. At last, the girl gave a description of how he looked, including comparisons of how he was either like or unlike he'd been as a child. Rem still wondered how Shyla could possibly have known enough about Vash's childhood appearance to make such accurate comparisons.

"Probably best you get to know him for yourself," Shyla had concluded. "I can't describe him well, but he's amazing in so many ways. He has such a beautiful heart! You'll surely love him; at least as much for who he is now, as you do for the boy you once knew."

Something about the way the girl had pronounced those words, and the expression on her face, finally gave Rem an insight into her heart. Shyla loved Vash. Whether she loved him as woman to man, or only as a friend, her tenderness toward him was plain.

Vash arrived yesterday evening, two months and five days after Rem had wakened.

At first, recognition and joy had briefly flickered across his face. Then he'd looked afraid and simply stared at her, wide-eyed. Shyla assured him that Rem wasn't a dream, but real.

Shyla, who'd been holding Vash's hand at the time, opened her hand. She kept her hand under his, maintaining contact and quietly supporting him while waiting for him to do whatever he would. Rem recalled briefly wondering if that was also a picture of the girl's heart. Did she love Vash with an open hand, in the same way she stood there with her hand open, allowing him to stay or leave according to his own wishes?

After Shyla opened her hand, Vash nearly knocked Rem down when he lunged toward her and gathered her into his arms in one of the clumsiest hugs she'd ever experienced. Yet it was also one of the best hugs ever - it felt so wonderful to see and hug at least one of her boys.

He laughed and cried for a short while. Then he reached for Shyla, who had quietly closed the door behind him, and pulled her into the hug, too.

He held on tightly to both of them. "Now I know what home is," he whispered. "It's wherever you two are. Today, I've finally found my home."

They'd all three laughed and cried, and said a whole lot of nothing in particular. They sat on the couch, herself to his right and Shyla to his left. Vash kept asking her how she was. He kept squeezing her hand, as if he could barely believe the evidence of his own eyes.

If people were not mistaken, Vash had spent 195 years believing that she was dead. Yet he looked no older than his early or middle twenties. His hair had gone black, instead of the blonde hue that she remembered, but Rem still recognized the little boy she knew in the tall man he'd become.

Said tall man should be asleep on the couch. Rem wanted to see him again, and she was content to watch him sleeping just to gain the opportunity to drink in the sight of him.

She visited her restroom, threw on a robe and made it to her bedroom door. She'd only needed to catch herself against a wall twice during that process, which was an improvement over a few days ago.

She softly opened her door, and stepped through it. Sure enough, there he lay on the couch. He was resting on his right side, with his right hand palm-upwards beside his face on his pillow. In his hand was Shyla's. She sat on the floor with her head leaned against his pillow, sound asleep. The girl was in her pajamas and slippers, with a blanket loosely wrapped around her.

Rem smiled. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who wanted to see Vash, and delight in knowing he's alive and well and near.

In sleep, both of their faces looked very young, innocent, and vulnerable. Rem suddenly felt instinctively maternal toward both of them. Perhaps she ought to make more of an effort to draw out the bashful girl, and get to know her better. Vash had described both Shyla and herself as being part of what made this place his home. That meant the quiet girl had grown important to him.

Rem smiled at them, and began to understand why Shyla had hugged her on the day she awoke from cryo sleep. The girl had known she was important to Vash, so she had opened her arms, her heart and her home to Rem for his sake. It was a sweet thing for her to do, and understanding that endeared the girl to Rem.

Vash stirred, interrupting Rem's thoughts. She wasn't ashamed of watching him, so she made no effort to get into her room before he noticed her. Besides, any attempt to move quickly would include the risk she'd trip over her own two feet and fall down in an embarrassing manner.

His eyes opened, and he saw Shyla. He smiled, sat up, and began to stretch without moving the hand she held. In that process, he saw Rem.

He smiled again, and then flicked his eyes toward the sleeping girl. Rem nodded, and carefully moved closer. "Good morning" she said, barely above a whisper. She sat beside him, and he lifted his arm so she could nestle against his side.

"Good morning," he replied equally softly.

"I hope you'll forgive me for staring at you," Rem said. "I've wanted to see you since I woke, and... it's so good to see one of my boys, grown so tall and handsome."

Vash looked self-conscious, and might even be blushing just a little. The early morning light coming in through the window behind him was dim enough that Rem couldn't be sure.

"When Shyla wished me here, I had no idea why," he said. "It's going to take me a while to really believe this isn't another dream. I dream of you so often, Rem. I've missed you so much..." his voice broke, and she saw tears in his eyes.

She put both arms around him and held him tightly as he buried his face in her shoulder.

When she felt him relax a little, she loosened her hold and turned partway, so she wouldn't need to twist her head so far to see his face. When he wrapped his left arm around her, it felt ... different. She couldn't place why, so she impatiently pushed the distraction aside.

"I know you'd want me to think of you with joy, not grief," he said. "Maybe now I can do that. I couldn't before, no matter how hard I tried." He smiled, though there was still pain in his eyes.

"I'm a little surprised that you still thought of me at all, after so many years," Rem replied, smiling back at him. His eyes cleared, a little, and his smile widened.

"Of course I did," he said. Suddenly, he turned his head toward the sleeping girl. His expression was so extremely gentle that it might qualify as tender. "Shyla," he said softly, "did you want to wash up first, or shall I?" he asked.

She raised her head to smile at him. "I will," she said, "so I can make more doughnuts while you wash up."

He chuckled. "All right, I surrender," he said. "If you're going to bribe me with doughnuts, you'll win every time."

Her smile widened, and she squeezed his hand before releasing it. She stood and wished Rem a "Good morning" before going into her room and closing the door.

Vash looked after her, still wearing that affectionate expression on his face.

"They told me you brought her here," Rem said. "She rarely speaks of herself."

"She thinks she has little worth telling," Vash said. He stretched more thoroughly, now that both of his hands were free. Then he looked at Rem. "Her life may not make exciting stories, but she has a good heart."

"Will you tell me about Shyla?" Rem asked.

"Sure," he said, smiling.

...

...

...

...

**Author's Note:**_ This story should be able to stand alone. However, it is also a sequel to "__Vash's Long Road to Home__," which follows "__Vash's Quiet Life__." _

_There's also an associated "free verse" poem titled "__Too Late__" and a small collection of shorter stories, "__Search for a Stampede__."_

_(Just in case anyone happens to be interested in reading any more of what I imagine might follow the manga's end.) _;-)


	2. Vash

I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Vash**

"Will you tell me about Shyla?" Rem asked.

"Sure," he said, smiling. That topic was safe enough. He dreaded the hour when Rem would ask about Knives. Or had someone already told her?

(Shyla, has anyone told Rem about... my brother?)

(Not yet.) The feel of Shyla's thoughts was gently apologetic. (We wanted her to recover more first. She's still weak, since regeneration can't do everything. Learning about Knives could be a shock. We didn't want that to hurt her recovery.)

(So she's going to ask me.) He couldn't quite keep the pain out of his feelings as he shared the thought.

(Yes, it's likely.) He could feel Shyla's sympathetic affection reaching out to him like a warm embrace. He responded in kind, and then turned his attention to Rem's question.

"Forty-three years ago, I walked through the desert toward the small town where Shyla and Naomi lived as mother and daughter. I'd miscalculated how much water I would need, and collapsed only a little way outside the town. They found me and nursed me back to health. They put me in a room across the hall from theirs, and treated me like a member of the family."

"Naomi and I probably sheltered Shyla more than we should have," he said, allowing his guilt over that to leak into his voice. He couldn't share feelings with her the way he could with Shyla. That meant the feeling needed to be expressed by a different method.

"When Naomi died, I brought Shyla here. She'd asked me to take her somewhere safe. There was no reason for her to stay there alone, and here she could learn things not available in that small town. She seems to have settled in well, and her tutors say she's taking to medical skills as if she were born to heal."

"Forty-three years ago?" Rem said, sounding a little confused. "She looks about half that age. Has she been in cryo sleep?"

Vash chuckled. "No," he said. "And she's unlikely to look much older anytime soon, for the same reasons that I haven't aged much visibly. I'm surprised nobody told you. I can understand Shyla saying nothing. She worries it might make people uncomfortable, and feels that other things are more important. The other villagers are usually quick to mention that she's not an ordinary human, though."

"A plant?" Rem looked and sounded mildly startled. "That hadn't occurred to me as a possibility, though I suppose it should have."

"In the last thirty years or so, if radio and newspaper reports can be believed," he said, "several independents like myself and Shyla have come into being. Most are female. In fact, I've only heard of one other male ever being found, and that might be only a rumor. At least, when I checked around that area there was no sign of a young male plant."

He saw an expression flicker across Rem's face, and braced himself. Was she going to ask about Knives now? She had to wonder.

"How strange that they're nearly all female," she said after a pause. "I wonder why that may be." She frowned, and then shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "Yet that appears to be what happens."

"As I recall," Rem said slowly, "you were always gentle and affectionate, like Shyla. Are most independent plants the same?"

Vash laughed. "No, not at all," he said. "Independents come in as many different personalities as ordinary humans. I just got lucky that I landed in a town where the independent plant girl had such a sweet nature."

"How old was she, when you met her?" she asked.

"Shyla was four," he answered, "and very much like she is now, though perhaps slightly shorter."

"You seem to be close," Rem observed.

"I'm the only family she has," Vash said. "Her human mother, Naomi, was as wise as you are, but in different ways. She also was very kind, and loving. Shyla and I both needed that very badly at the time. But she was old, and her body gave out before either of us was ready to let her go."

"I see," Rem said. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks," he said.

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken when Shyla opened the door to her room. "Your turn," she said cheerfully.

"Thanks," he said, trying not to sound relieved. He'd half expected Rem to ask about Knives any second, and was glad that he did not need to face that quite yet.

"You could have washed up in my room," Rem said, as if she'd only just realized it herself.

"I stowed my things in Shyla's room last evening," he said. "So it's easier for me to go in there. Thanks for the offer, though." He hugged Rem and kissed her cheek, then went into Shyla's room and pushed the door shut. He was too distracted to check if it had latched or not. He opened the window, feeling a need for some fresh air.

He sat on the bed, and, for a moment, he rested his face in his hands. He loved Rem so dearly, and he knew it would hurt her as much as it did him when she learned how Knives had lived.

There was a soft knock on the door. "It's Shyla." Her voice came through the door.

It was like her to respect his privacy, even when he was in her own room.

"Come in," he said.

She came in, quickly closing the door behind her. She sat on the bed beside him, to his right, and put her arm around his back and leaned her head on his shoulder. He felt her warm affection wrapping around him, and he leaned his cheek against her head and closed his eyes.

(Would you like my memories of her, since she woke up?)

His eyes snapped open. He had shared memories with Shyla, which were responsible for her recognizing Rem. It also made him a part of her, in a manner that no normal human could ever be. Now she was offering the same to him, an unexpected boon.

(Yes, please.)

(I've learned how to receive, but you'll have to teach me how to give.)

He smiled both physically and mentally. (I'm willing.)

He felt her dual smile, and they shifted positions to face each other. They touched foreheads, which always seemed to make mental sharing easier. He lowered his barriers enough to make an access for her consciousness to come in to his mind.

She entered as gently as always, and did the mental equivalent of kneeling with her hands wide. (I am ready. Take whatever you want, and welcome. We should try to be quick, so she doesn't worry and interrupt.)

All of her barriers were down, he realized with surprise. Suddenly he wanted to share her whole life, and not just the recent months with Rem. A strange impulse, that. He wondered where it came from. As he began to suppress it, he realized from her thoughts that she'd felt it, too.

(If you want all, feel free.)

Such trust! He felt unworthy of it, from being far too familiar with his own weaknesses and shortcomings. Yet the fact that she granted him such trust made him determined to measure up to the task. He would never betray her trust, no matter what.

(It ... might be quicker to share all, instead of trying to separate out only the most recent memories.) He admitted. (However, it might feel uncomfortable.)

(I can think of nothing that must be hidden from you. Please, go ahead. You're welcome.)

(Thank you.) He helped her through the process of duplicating and packaging all of her memories. Then she extended them to him, and he accepted.

(I hope you'll not be too disappointed in me, when you learn all my flaws.)

(Since you can be patient with my flaws and forgive them, I believe I can do the same for yours.) Her flaws were likely to be far less grave than his own!

(You're always so kind to me, thank you.)

(When one receives kindness, it becomes easy to give it where it was given.)

He felt her blush, both mentally and physically. (I would linger, but I don't want Rem worrying. And you'll want the doughnuts I promised.) With those thoughts, she gently withdrew.

He paid attention to her mind, as he returned his mental barriers to their usual place. Yes, she lifted her own mental barriers again. Good. However, she shouldn't be so unprotected as she was when she entered his mind... if another plant wanted to communicate with her that way, she'd be vulnerable to harm.

He'd have to teach her about that, soon.

(Thank you again, Shyla.)

She smiled in both body and mind, and again wrapped him in her affection as she left the room.

He gently opened the memories she had given him, and let his mind absorb them. He would process them a little at a time. He got up and began picking clothes for the day, preparing to wash up before breakfast, and started connecting with her recent memories.

He reached back to her memories of the woman in the cryo sleep cylinder just a little before her awakening, and smiled. She'd hoped the unrecognizable burn victim was someone who knew Rem, and could talk with him about her.

She wanted to help the person for their own sake. However, her secret hope that the person from his time would bring him some joy had sustained her through many of the long hours of regeneration.

That was so like Shyla, to think of someone else before thinking of herself. It was probably one reason she was growing into such a fine healer.

He took his chosen clothing into the bathroom, and continued processing as he undressed and washed. For the moment, he skipped over days and hours that did not include Rem. He would return to those later.

Suddenly he stopped cold. He reached the point where Shyla had a nightmare caused by his own memories that he'd shared with her. They were memories about the aftermath of his discovery of Tessla. That nightmare came just before she finished healing Rem, so it had been connected to memories of Rem.

Shyla had never told him about the nightmares, though her memories made it plain that was far from the first. He would have to talk with her about that. He continued forward, relaxing as her memories returned to Rem's healing.

He finished his shower efficiently, and dried off. With a towel wrapped around his waist, and another around his damp hair, he sat on Shyla's bed and continued processing her memories. Seeing himself through her eyes, feeling her deep and unconditional affection for him... it was like a gentle rain on his parched soul.

Her most recent memories showed her growing affection for Rem, and her eagerness to restore his mother to him. She wanted this simply because she knew it would make him happy, and because she cared so much for him.

He lay backward onto the bed, closed his eyes, and drank it all in.


	3. Shyla

I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Shyla**

Shyla left Vash in her room and began making doughnut dough. She measured out the ingredients with more than usual care. This morning would be the first breakfast Vash and Rem could share since they had been so cruelly parted more than a century ago. She wanted it to be good for both of them.

She would make herself as unobtrusive as possible. This should be their time. Perhaps she would leave to take a walk, or go early to play with the children so they could enjoy the morning without any awkwardness from a third person. Vash might be comfortable with her there, but Rem would likely prefer some time alone with her adopted son.

She set aside the dough to let it rise, and mixed up some pancake batter. She could have the cakes baking on a griddle while doughnuts fried in the oil. What else might help make this breakfast special? She pondered until she was distracted by an emotional spike from Vash.

His feelings had been comfortable... oh dear. She'd forgotten about the nightmares when she offered him all of her memories. Had she remembered, she might have tried to edit those out.

His feelings evened out, and became comfortable again. His ever-present pain wasn't gone, but at least for the moment it was not what he felt the most strongly. His emotional echoes felt... relaxed, content. She relaxed also, and returned her attention to breakfast.

Rem came out of her room, dressed in daytime clothes with damp hair.

"Good morning, again," Shyla said cheerfully. "Breakfast should be ready shortly."

"Good morning to you also," Rem said, "and thank you."

Shyla began frying eggs and cooking pancakes for Rem. She put a pot of water on to boil, so there could be tea if either of them wanted any.

"Odd, isn't Vash done washing up yet?" Rem said.

"I haven't seen him come out," Shyla said. She sampled his emotional echoes, and sensed that he was processing her memories. To her surprise, the contentment she sensed earlier had upgraded to actual happiness. She rarely felt that from him, at least rarely stronger than his pain. She smiled, pleased to have helped him gain a reprieve from that pain however briefly. "I'm sure he's fine, though," she added.

"Maybe I should check on him," Rem said. "He started before I did."

"You didn't need to shave your face to look good for a mother you've missed seeing for more than a century," Shyla pointed out. "Maybe he's just taking extra time for you."

Rem chuckled. "Sweet thought, but I already saw him this morning with his whiskers and all. It's a little late for him to get self-conscious about his appearance now. I loved him when I changed his diapers, and that won't change from a few whiskers or hairs out of place."

"He still might want to take extra care for your sake," Shyla said. She wasn't sure if he would worry about his appearance for Rem or not, but it was a plausible explanation. Vash might not be ready for Rem to see his scars.

"I think I'll check on him anyway," Rem said. She began walking toward Shyla's door.

Shyla quickly moved the pan off the stove and turned off the heat, so that nothing would burn. Then she followed, hoping to prevent Rem from opening that door. If Vash hadn't come out on his own yet, there was a strong possibility that he might be incompletely dressed.

(Vash, Rem's coming to see you.)

She felt him pull out of the memories he'd been processing. (Thank you.)

"Vash?" Rem said, tapping on the door as she opened it.

Shyla wasn't quite fast enough. Through the open doorway, she could see Vash standing and apparently wearing nothing except a towel wrapped around his waist. He had a bathrobe in his hand, but hadn't got it put on yet.

That was more of him than she'd ever seen before, Shyla realized. She hadn't known he had so many scars on his legs and back, too. She'd only seen him in sleeveless shirts, or with the front of a long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned. It made her heart ache to think he'd been hurt so badly, so many times as it took to make all those scars.

She would never understand why anyone would want to hurt a gentle soul like Vash.

Blinking back tears, she caught Rem around her waist and tried to pull her away. She could feel Vash's embarrassment, and knew that he was throwing on the bathrobe as fast as he possibly could. With Vash, that could be very fast indeed.

Rem wouldn't budge. "Vash!" she gasped. She wrestled free from Shyla's grasp to go to him and put her arms around him. "My God..."

He was blushing deeply as Rem released him from the hug to tug at the front of the bathrobe. It looked as if she intended to open it and look at him again. His towel dropped out from under it, and he clutched at the robe to hold it in place.

Shyla went to them. "Please, Rem," she said, "Let's allow him to get dressed. We can talk in the other room." She sent an apologetic glance toward Vash as she gathered Rem in her arms and tried again to pull the woman out of her bedroom.

"Yes, please," he said gently. "I'll be out in a minute or two."

With obvious reluctance, Rem permitted Shyla to lead her out and close the door behind them.

"You said his life had scarred him," she said softly. "How could I know you meant this?"

Shyla hugged the other woman and gently guided her to sit on the left end of the couch. "It hurts to see them, doesn't it?" she said. "I cry every time I see them or think of them. How much he must have suffered..." her voice broke.

"Why?" Rem asked. "Why would anyone want to do anything like that to him?"

Shyla sat beside Rem, and put her arms around her. "Some of those scars came when he rescued people from criminals," she said. "He told me once that he figured that it was better if he got hurt, instead of innocent bystanders, since he could heal better than normal humans."

"That suggests a great many rescues," Rem said softly.

"Yes," Shyla said. "It's not where they all came from, but it accounts for some of them."

"And the others?" Rem asked. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Shyla was spared from needing to find a reply by the opening of her bedroom door. Shyla let go of Rem and scooted away, making space for Vash to sit between them.

He took the hint, and claimed the provided space. He sat sideways, so he was partially facing Rem. That put Rem in front of him to his right and Shyla to his left and behind. He reached out with his right hand and gently took one of Rem's hands.

Shyla leaned her head on his left shoulder, and put her arms around his waist. She knew no better way to comfort him as he spoke of painful subjects, else she'd have done that also. She made a point of feeling how much she loved him, so that he could feel it too.

"You haven't asked me, not in words," Vash said to Rem while leaning back slightly into Shyla's embrace. "But I've seen the question in your eyes. I gather someone discouraged you from asking me about... Knives."

He turned his head slightly, and Shyla could feel his attention on her. She blushed, and looked down at the floor. Even Rem would be likely to guess that qualified as a confession, if she hadn't already heard the words herself. Vash knew instantly.

His left hand patted her hands, still around his waist from behind. "You meant well," he said gently. "I must tell her, and now seems as good a time as any."

She felt him turn his head back toward Rem. "Most of the scars you saw," he said, "were either directly or indirectly caused by Knives."

Rem gasped. As Shyla looked up from the floor, she saw that the other woman had raised her free hand to cover her mouth.

"It's a long story," Vash continued. "And, unfortunately, it is not a pleasant one."

They sat thus all day and well into the evening, while Vash struggled through telling about Knives and himself. Parts of the story Shyla hadn't known before.

She could feel how much it hurt Vash to tell these things. Shyla stayed and silently listened, still hugging his waist from behind and loving him with all her might.

Rem occasionally asked questions, but mostly she sat quietly listening and holding his hand as he spoke. Tears constantly ran down her face. When he finished, Rem leaned forward to hug him, and Shyla let go of him so that she could.

"Don't blame yourself so much, Vash," Rem said. "He made his own choices."

"If I'd been a better brother..."

"Nonsense," Rem declared with conviction. "I'm sure you did the very best you could at the time. Knives is guilty of his own sins. Don't try to carry them for him."

Shyla could see and feel that those words helped Vash. She smiled through her tears, internally thanking Rem for saying that and meaning it. He would not have been helped half so much by hearing those words from anyone else.

Suddenly she recalled the breakfast she never finished making. The half-cooked food in the pan was probably hopeless, but the rest of the batter and dough should still be ready for cooking.

"We never had breakfast," she said softly. "Would either of you be interested, if I cooked up the pancakes and doughnuts now?"

Vash brightened a little. "I'm _always_ interested in your doughnuts," he said.

Shyla smiled. "I'll go cook some for you then," she said, "and pancakes for Rem."


	4. Peaceful Days

I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Peaceful Days**

Vash wanted the first visit with Rem to be more positive, after the pain of discussing Knives.

He wanted to make some good memories for Rem, since they might have to last her awhile. He dared not stay too long, and he would need to stay away about a year after. He didn't want to lead the troubles that pursued him to these peaceful folk again.

There were the usual morning exercises, though he abbreviated them somewhat to allow more time with Rem. Also, since he was borrowing Shyla's room, he didn't want to make it smell too much like sweat. He liked the lingering scent of lilacs the place had.

He didn't know where the scent came from, but Shyla nearly always had a bit of it about her. It might come from a soap or shampoo, or perhaps she wore cologne. He'd come to associate that sweet, gentle scent of lilacs with her. Because of her, the lilac scent had become one of his favorites.

However, he did not want that scent for himself. Thankfully, Shyla provided soaps and shampoos for him with a blend of lavender, sandalwood and nose-clearing spices. He always felt more refreshed after washing with those scents than with what he could readily acquire elsewhere.

Breakfast was always pleasant, partly thanks to Shyla's wonderful doughnuts! He never minded when it was his turn to clean up after. Sometimes Shyla would stash an extra doughnut or two in the cupboard when it was his turn to clean. He would have cleaned anyway, since it was only fair for those who helped eat to help clean up after. Finding hidden doughnuts sure made it a lot more fun, though.

One morning, he woke up early so he cooked breakfast. He wanted Rem to know she'd not wasted her time teaching him how to cook. She seemed to enjoy that breakfast as well as she enjoyed the ones Shyla made for them.

After breakfast, it was time to play with the children. He and Shyla would walk on either side of Rem, with their arms linked in hers. That way, if she faltered, they could brace her up. They took her to a bench where she could sit and watch.

Vash enjoyed the musical sound of Rem's laughter as she watched him and Shyla playing and wrestling with the children. He'd always liked her laugh, and had long missed hearing it. It felt good to see and hear her being so happy. When Rem was happy, and he could feel Shyla being happy, that helped make him feel happy, too.

Lunches were usually light, saving the heavier meals for breakfast and dinner. There were exceptions, usually on Shyla's day off. Most times, it was important for her to get to the infirmary on time for her shift.

They never went hungry. It was merely that lunch tended to be a more practical meal, and other meals were more about enjoying the food.

During those quiet times after lunch, when Shyla was gone, he told Rem about the happy, quiet times with Sheryl and Lina, and with Naomi and Shyla. He wanted to share those parts of his life, since he remembered them as the best times outside of his earliest childhood days with Rem.

He even shared how it initially amused him that Naomi, who was approximately half his own age, had wanted to adopt him as a son. Yet it had proved to be good for both of them, strange as their age difference was.

Those times might not be his most exciting days, but they were among the most pleasant. Sometimes instead of talking about quiet times with surrogate family, he would tell Rem about walking the desert, and how beautiful the sky could be - especially at sunrise or sunset. This, too, was part of his life and not always without joy.

When Shyla returned from work, she would organize them for making dinner. Sometimes Vash would feel mischievous and throw flour over both ladies, or splash them with water, or pretend he couldn't read a recipe because it was upside-down. Usually he behaved himself, though, and simply entertained them with jokes or silly songs he'd heard on his travels.

After dinner, he might talk about happy times with Wolfwood or the insurance girls. Silly times, or traveling times, when there were no shots fired and no one was hurt. The good times, the times that one had to remember on purpose. Bad times had a way of being remembered whether one wished to forget or not.

Some evenings they spent with different families from the Seeds village. It was only polite for Vash to visit around a little, since many were friends. However, he didn't want to be parted from Rem or Shyla on this visit, so they would all three go together. It was a good opportunity for Rem to get acquainted with more folks, when she wasn't too tired.

One night there was a dance in honor of his presence and Rem's awakening. That was fun, at least for him, even though he didn't get to dance with Rem or Shyla as much as he'd hoped. He hadn't realized he would be so popular with the teen-aged girls. It must have been from his being the new face in town. At least, he couldn't think of any other reason.

Some evenings when they stayed at home, they sang. Rem's strong soprano blended well with his own indifferent tenor. Shyla's gentle lilting voice had enough range to harmonize with both. It could even be fun teaching each other new songs.

The days were so pleasant that Vash disliked the thought of leaving. He didn't want this visit to end. He knew it must, but he pushed that awareness away. He would think about that when he needed to go, and not before. He wouldn't let that need overshadow the joys of these gentle, peaceful days.

On one of Shyla's days off, after Vash had been there for about two and a half weeks, the three of them decided to have a picnic in the apple orchard. The trees were in full bloom, and just beginning to shed a few petals when a breeze shook the branches.

They spread out the blanket under the trees and sat down to eat. Shyla had packed the basket well, staying behind while he took Rem to watch him play with the children. There were salmon sandwiches, biscuits and jellies, cider, tea, apple dumplings and doughnuts.

After everyone had eaten, Shyla lay back to stare up at the sky. He immediately took his customary place laying perpendicular to her and resting his head on her stomach. She gently stroked his hair, as she usually did when they watched the sky together.

That day the vividly blue sky had a few thin clouds moving slowly across it, somewhere high up in the atmosphere. Laying there in the orchard with Shyla and Rem, and watching the restful blue sky, was perhaps his favorite part of this visit.

He could almost feel Rem smiling at him. He turned his head enough to see her, and smiled back. He didn't remember when he'd been so happy since he was a child, before so many different sorrows came into his life to weigh him down.

"The sky is beautiful today," he said, patting the blanket beside him and smiling at Rem. "Come have a look."

"I like the view from here just fine, thanks," Rem replied with a smile of her own. She was sitting with her back against an apple tree trunk, and appeared relaxed and content.

"Okay," he said, still smiling. "The spot will be here if you change your mind."

Rem chuckled, and he turned his gaze back up to the sky.

After a very short while, he felt Shyla fall asleep. Her fingers in his hair stilled. He smiled. She'd earned it.

Because he slept on the couch, he'd been wakened both when Shyla was sent for, and when she was escorted back so weary that she could barely stand. There had been a difficult birth, but because she'd assisted, both mother and child were fine. The doctor said without the loan of plant regenerative abilities that only Shyla could provide, it was likely the child would not have survived.

Vash was proud of the way Shyla had found a place in the community, and learned to do something that benefited everyone. He was also glad that she knew how to borrow energy voluntarily loaned by the sisters in the orbs, so that she would not expend too much of her own strength. The borrowed charges dissipated quickly, so the energy needed to be used right away, but Shyla had learned how to do this efficiently.

He turned his attention to Rem, who still sat watching him. "So," he said, "You've been staying with Shyla for over a month now. How do the two of you get along?"

"She's a perfect roommate," Rem said. "She's always so neat and tidy, and quiet. She's been good for me, as I've been healing."

"She likes you," Vash offered. "I hope you like her, too."

"I do," Rem assured him. "She's so sweet, it's easier to like her than not."

"Yes," Vash said, considering. "I hadn't thought of it that way before, but you're right. It is easier to like her than not. It just sort of happens, and then you're glad it did."

"And then she grows on you," Rem said.

"Or into you," he said thoughtfully. "She becomes a part of your life, and she does it so gently and naturally... possibly instinctively. Then one day you realize what happened, and you wonder how you made do before you met her."

A breeze gusted, showering them with apple blossom petals.

"That would make a fine picture," Rem observed.

"What?" Vash asked.

"The two of you, with all the blossom petals around," she said.

He carefully disentangled Shyla's fingers from his hair, and lifted his head to look at her. She'd not braided her hair today, so it lay spread on the blanket under her. The petals scattered across her golden locks, and across her shirt, did result in a picturesque effect.

"I think there's a camera at the house," he said. "I'll be right back."

"Oh, don't disturb her," Rem said. She knew why Shyla was so tired, too.

"I won't," he said. "I'll just get the camera and take a picture."

He did exactly that, and then lay back down and gently put Shyla's fingers back where they had been. It was a mild afternoon, good for sky-watching. Even the occasional breezes that made a few petals billow down were pleasant.

He'd not meant to doze off, but he woke to see Rem smiling and holding the camera. Had its click wakened him? Ah well, if it made Rem happy he didn't mind too much.

The day was so beautiful, and being with his two favorite people in the universe made it more pleasant. He didn't want to leave, but knew he should.

He sighed, wistfully wishing he could stay without being a danger to them.

"That sounded sad," Rem said. "What is it, Vash?"

"I don't want to leave," he said. "I like being here, with you."

"I like you being here, too," Rem said. "Surely you don't need to leave yet?"

"Not today, no," he said. "But I should go soon, perhaps tomorrow. Troubles have a way of finding me if I linger too long in one place. I don't want those troubles to come here."

"The day we talked about... history," Rem said carefully, "You mentioned something about a bounty on you?"

"Yes, that's often the trouble that finds me," he said. "Bounty hunters, or law enforcement, or news reporters come looking for me. If I'm particularly unlucky, it might be all three. None would be especially good for the village here."

It was Rem's turn to sigh. "I'd like it better if you could stay, too," she said.

"Perhaps one day I can," he said hopefully.

Rem smiled. "I hope so," she said.

They enjoyed a companionable silence until Shyla stirred. The breezes had cooled, and the suns were beginning to set. So they packed up the blanket and the picnic basket, and walked home.

That evening, after he entertained them with more stories of humorous situations from his travels, he told them he ought to leave the next day. That resulted in a group hug, where both said they'd miss him. He said he'd miss them at least as much, and held onto the two souls dearest to his own for a long time.

The next day, shortly after breakfast, he packed his duffel, wished them farewell, and set out on another lonely journey.


	5. Changes and Challenges

I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Changes and Challenges**

Rem sighed loudly.

Vash had warned them that he might be away for more than a year, to avoid maintaining a pattern that others might predict. She knew he was hunted. She understood his need to stay away.

Unfortunately, knowing and understanding those things didn't help. She still missed him, and it had only been seven months since he left.

It didn't help that Shyla also missed him, either. Oh, the girl was quiet about it, and did her best to keep it to herself. However, now Rem understood what was passing through her heart when she stared off into the distance with that expression of loss and longing. It meant she was missing Vash.

They were both restless. Vash's absence left a large hole in the family circle. Nothing they tried seemed to fill that emptiness, even a little.

At least she could walk again. Rem had gradually explored the whole village and the ship also. She'd tried to see where she could be helpful, and any assistance she offered was warmly received. Yet she remained discontent.

When it came down to it, she missed her boy who had grown into a fine man.

"You look unhappy," Shyla observed. "Is there anything I can do?"

"How did you know Vash was coming, the day I woke up?"

"I wished for him to come here, and felt him respond," Shyla said.

"I don't suppose you could do that again?" Rem asked hopefully.

"I shouldn't," Shyla said apologetically. "We must trust him to come home when he thinks it right."

Rem sighed again.

"There... could be... another option," Shyla said slowly.

Rem tilted her head. "What would that be?"

"I could arrange for you to return to cryo sleep whenever Vash isn't here," Shyla said, "and be waked whenever he comes."

Rem frowned thoughtfully. Something in the girl's manner suggested she'd been giving this a lot of thought, but hadn't said anything until now. She looked at her, and raised an eyebrow.

"Vash was devastated when he believed you'd died," Shyla said, answering her look. "He mourned you the whole time, for almost two centuries. It will devastate him again when ever your life really does end. However, if you sleep when he's away, your life will be extended."

Rem smiled. Shyla would think of her and Vash first, before thinking of herself. It was part of the girl's giving nature.

"For you, there would be little or no time when he's away," the girl continued. "For him, you would be part of his life for many years, perhaps even centuries. It would be time that you two could not spend together otherwise."

Clearly, Rem's instinct had been correct. This cryo sleep idea was no random impulse. The girl had been thinking of it, perhaps trying to find a good opportunity to suggest it, for quite some time.

"Are you just trying to get rid of me?" Rem teased.

"No, not at all!" Shyla said. "I'll miss you, almost as much as I miss him. But... well, wouldn't it be better for you to sleep between his visits, instead of being as miserable as you have been these past months?"

Odd as it may seem, this notion appealed. Rem wasn't afraid of cryo sleep. Oh, it wasn't her favorite thing in the world to do, but Shyla was correct. It would be better than how she'd been feeling in the months since Vash went away.

"I'll consider it," she said thoughtfully. She already knew which way she was leaning.

"Thank you," Shyla said. She returned to what she'd been doing before they talked.

...

Rem's eyelids opened, to show her the recovery room in the cryo unit. This was the seventh time she'd been awakened. Four prior had been because Vash was expected to arrive shortly, and two had been to tend technical difficulties where her expertise had proven valuable.

Before she had time to wonder which this was, she saw Shyla smiling at her. "Vash is coming," she said.

Rem smiled in return. "Good," she said. She vastly preferred seeing Vash to wrestling with a technical emergency.

After a few minutes, when Rem felt more fully awake, Shyla led her to their house.

"Before we start cooking, may I show you something?" Shyla asked bashfully.

"Of course," Rem replied, curious.

"One of my co-workers at the infirmary is getting married," she said. "She wants me to be a bridesmaid. The dress is finished, and I wanted to show it to you."

"Show it to me on you," Rem said. "Please."

"Okay," Shyla replied.

Rem sat on the couch and waited while Shyla stepped into her room and changed. When she came out, Rem gasped. "It's beautiful!" she said, and smiled. "I see why you wanted to show it to me. Thank you."

Shyla smiled. "It's the prettiest thing I own," she said, twirling around. The long hem barely raised above her ankles when she spun. "I'd hoped another lady might understand."

"You look pretty in it, too," Rem said.

She wasn't exaggerating. The sage green gauze brought out the gentle greens in Shyla's pale hazel eyes, and the style suited the girl's slender figure.

Shyla blushed. "I should change," she said. "I don't want to ruin it while cooking."

"Okay," Rem said, still smiling.

Shyla emerged shortly after in a plain shirt, pants and vest. They both set to preparing various things that they hoped Vash would enjoy - including Shyla's doughnuts.

"Cryo sleep makes it tricky to keep track of the time," Rem said. "How long has it been, since the first time I woke up?"

"Five years," Shyla answered.

"Thank you," she said. She considered that. Five years had passed, though she'd only been awake for about eight or nine months of that time. That was enough time for her hair to be a more reasonable length, if still shorter than her preference.

She'd noticed that some things had changed around the village as they walked to the house. It wasn't anything very drastic, though. Waking each year kept the changes feeling gradual, instead of too abrupt. Inside her thoughts, Rem blessed Shyla for thinking of this elegant solution to the situation.

Suddenly the door opened. "I'm home!" Vash's gleeful words wafted in through the open doorway. He was grinning practically from ear to ear, delighted to have surprised them.

Rem dusted the flour off her hands, and turned. "You weren't expected for another hour yet!" she said, pretending to sound miffed.

"I can go somewhere and return later if you'd like," he said, drooping visibly and sounding so sad that she knew he was teasing.

"Don't you _dare_!" Shyla said.

Rem chuckled as her room mate hurried to Vash's side and hugged him. She saw her dear boy's grin return and widen again as he hugged the girl against his side.

Rem thought again how the two plants were so cute together. They behaved like two small children who adored each other, but hadn't enough hormones between them for any romantic notions to occur. It seemed almost as if neither of them had fully realized that they are a male and a female. She wondered again how they managed to ignore their gender difference so completely.

Since they'd been like this for over half a century, she wondered if it would ever occur to either of them that they could form their own family. Yet they were good together, and good for each other, as they were.

Rem couldn't regret their lack of romance, aside from a minor selfish wish for grandchildren.

She stepped forward, anticipating her own hug. She was not disappointed. It felt so good to see Vash, and hug him, and smell the desert winds on his clothes. He was alive, and well, and looked happy. She squeezed him again, from sheer joy.

He laughed. "Don't break me into two pieces, you two!" he said.

Rem and Shyla both giggled.

"Never," Rem said. "I prefer you in one piece, thanks."

"Likewise," Shyla said.

They separated. He parked his duffel in Shyla's room before sitting on the couch.

Rem sat on the couch near him, turned sideways and leaning against the back of the couch. She wanted to drink in the sight of him.

He spread his arms across the back of the couch, and leaned his head back against the wall. "Ah," he said, closing his eyes. "It's so good to be home. I've missed this place, and both of you, more than I know how to say."

"You do know it would be fine with us if you came oftener?" Rem teased.

He smiled without opening his eyes. "I wish I could," he said.

Rem laid a hand on his arm. "I know," she said softly.

His smile widened, and he continued to sit there with his eyes closed, relaxing. He looked happy, and she was content with that.

It was only a very few minutes later when she realized his breathing had grown deep and even. He must have traveled fast and far that day, to arrive so much earlier than planned. Small wonder he was tired. He still smiled, even though asleep.

She carefully eased herself up off the couch and went to Shyla. "He's asleep," she said softly.

Shyla nodded. "I know," she said. "I'm just finishing up the doughnuts that are currently frying before stopping until he wakes."

_Of course, she would know_, Rem reminded herself. _I sometimes forget how sensitive she is toward anything to do with Vash_.

The evening went quietly. Vash didn't wake, though he did eventually tip over to sprawl in a more comfortable position on the couch.

Rem took off his boots and Shyla laid a blanket over him. After that, the two ladies turned in for the night themselves.

The next morning, after the usual washing up and cooking and eating of breakfast, Rem and Vash were again in the sitting area. It was Shyla's turn to wash the dishes, so she was tending those chores.

Rem had no news of her own, except that she again slept while he was gone. So she was telling Vash about Shyla's new dress for her co-worker's upcoming wedding, and how well the dress flattered both the girl's coloring and her figure.

Vash was listening, and for a moment, he closed his eyes as if imagining what Rem described. Suddenly he opened his eyes, looked startled, and looked down at his body. His surprised expression transitioned through shock to mild alarm.

Rem saw where he was looking, and had to work hard to avoid giggling. Poor fellow! That must be embarrassing.

Vash pulled his knees together, scratched the back of his neck, and said, "I think I need the restroom. I'll be back."

He went through Shyla's room to the restroom in there and closed the door.

He stayed in there until Shyla had finished the dishes. When he came out, he dug into his duffel and pulled out a wrap. It was a windy day, so if he meant to go out he'd want an extra layer for warmth.

"Where are you going?" Shyla asked, unaware of what had happened.

"I haven't had a check-up for awhile," he said. "I think I'll see if any of the doctors has time for me. I'll be back later." He smiled and waved, and was out the door before either of them could say a word.

Had it been Rem's imagination, or was his complexion pinker than usual? Her amusement turned to sympathy.

"He seems confused," Shyla said, sounding concerned. "Do you know what might have caused that?"

Rem suspected that she knew exactly why he felt confused. However, it should be Vash's decision how much he wanted Shyla to know.

"I couldn't say," she said. Rem knew better than to try lying to Shyla, but that evasion should work since it was truthful. She didn't think she should say.

"I hope he'll be all right," Shyla said, looking toward the direction he'd gone.

"I'm sure he will be," Rem said. He might be embarrassed by his reaction, but males had been dealing with that forever. He would be fine, in time.

Vash returned, deep in thought, at lunchtime. He greeted both with hugs, but was too distracted while eating to keep up his part of the conversation.

Shyla must have sent him a thought message, because he looked up at her and shook his head. "I just need to figure something out, that's all," he said. He tried smiling, but the smile failed to reach his troubled eyes. "I'll be fine. Go ahead and take your usual shift at the infirmary."

"Okay," she said. She stood, leaned over and hugged him, then retrieved her own wrap and threw it around herself. "I'll be back to cook dinner."

"Have a good shift," Rem said.

Vash waved, and Shyla walked away.

As soon as she was out of sight, he rested his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands.

"Vash," Rem said softly. "I saw what happened this morning. Sometimes it helps to talk about it."

"She's a child, Rem," he said softly. There was anguish in his voice. "She looks like a woman, but she's only a child. I was only a child, until a few months ago. I can't be reacting like _that_ around her."

"What do you mean?" Rem asked. It was her turn to feel confused.

"The doctor said it's the other half of adolescence," Vash replied. "The mating instincts, they're waking up in my body. I never had any of those until a few months ago, when I caught myself noticing a pretty girl."

Oh dear, Rem thought. Was that the first time he'd...? Small wonder he'd looked shocked!

"Oh, I'd seen pretty girls before," he said dismissively, before she could respond. "I've also seen beautiful sunsets, or aesthetically appealing cloud formations. Until about three months ago, I had the same reaction to all three. I just enjoyed the view."

"But now, if it's a pretty girl," he continued, "I get these strange tickles and sometimes my whole skin feels weird. And then there was this morning..." Without looking up, he shook his head.

"How old are you now?" Rem asked.

"Two hundred and three," he said. "One of the doctors said it might be coming on earlier than would be usual for an independent plant, since my hair's already gone black."

Rem kicked herself internally for wanting grandchildren. If the change was distressing him this much, it wasn't worth it.

He had a point about the black hair, however. Plants could live a very long time, possibly even forever. In the case of plants in orbs, they would continue to expend plant energy. That meant that a plant with black hair would be nearing the end of his or her life.

In Vash's case, he was content to live as a human without using any special plant abilities. This meant that he could possibly continue to live indefinitely, provided he didn't attempt anything an ordinary human couldn't do.

"I'm sure you will find the best way to handle this," Rem said gently.

"I'll have to," he said bleakly.

Rem laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.

He lifted his head and placed his hand over hers. He tried to smile, but again it failed to reach his eyes.

"I need to go," he said. "If that happens again, and Shyla senses it..." he shook his head.

"Surely it wouldn't be that bad," Rem said. "She's a very understanding sort of girl."

"It could upset or disgust her," he said. He sounded ashamed. "I don't want that. I need to go, now, before anything like this happens again."

"Is there no other way?" Rem asked. "You've only just arrived."

"I can think of no better way," Vash replied. "Please give Shyla my love and apologies."

He stood, went into Shyla's room, retrieved his duffel, put his wrap back on, and paused by the door with his hand on the handle.

"I knew this type of thing happened to others," he said softly. "Since it had never before happened to me, I thought that it never would."

He shook his head and sighed. "It's one thing to look male, to have that physical configuration," he continued. "It's another thing to feel it, like this. I'll stay away until I have learned to control myself better. You may have a very long nap ahead of you."

When he finished speaking, he was out the door with a wave and another sad smile before Rem could think of a word to say.

She wanted to run after him and try to comfort him. However, remembering other young men she'd known, she knew that he might be hypersensitive to any touch right now. The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel worse. She sighed.

She washed the dishes from lunch, and then went to the infirmary and found Shyla. "Something came up, dear," she said, and then winced internally at the unintended precision of those words. "Vash felt he needed to go take care of things. He asked me to let you know."

Shyla nodded, looking sad. "I know something is troubling him. Sometimes he isolates himself to figure things out, even though we'd be willing to help."

Rem hugged her. She wasn't so sure they could help him with this. "Shall we put me back to sleep now, so we don't interrupt your shift or require extra time from anyone?"

Shyla responded with a smile that didn't fully reach her eyes. "Of course," she said.

Rem hugged her again, and they walked toward the cryo area together.


	6. Death of a Stampede

I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Death of a Stampede**

Vash hoisted his bag and set out as he watched the suns rise. He enjoyed the multicolored display spread across the skies as he walked. When away from home, that was the best part of each morning.

Away from home... it had been 57 years since he'd last visited the Seeds ship village, or seen either Rem or Shyla. He'd radioed in a few times, and he sent letters regularly. But he'd not actually gone there for 57 long years.

He'd gone to Meryl's house shortly after the last time he visited the village, intending to apologize to her for being insensitive. Unfortunately, when it came to the point, he could find no words to convey his regrets. He'd made an excuse and walked away. She hadn't recognized him, so he hoped at least he'd done no harm.

Sometimes this latest half-century felt like the longest years of his life. However, they had not been wasted years. He'd learned his own mind, heart and body better over time. He could now grow a full beard, which hadn't worked previously. He scratched at it, thinking he'd worn it long enough, and was ready to shave it off.

He now knew exactly which type of female would catch his eye, and he knew why. He could stop reactions cold simply by recognizing that the woman reminded him of someone, but wasn't that special someone herself.

He knew who, specifically, he wanted to marry. Unfortunately, knowing that didn't help much. He still hadn't learned how to stop his body from reacting to her.

He'd kept himself busy. He spent eleven years as a circus clown. A decade after that, he'd spent twelve years in a traveling thespian troupe, entertaining children. A decade later, he spent eight years as a carnival clown hawking balloons. All of those jobs kept his face concealed, and permitted him more freedom of movement than roaming about undisguised.

He dared not stay with any group for too long. His agelessness would be noticed and cause discomfort. Too many times, discomfort led to worse troubles.

He shifted his thoughts to other matters. He'd taken every opportunity to shut down numerous "Vash the Stampede" impostors over the years, making the world a safer place for honest citizens.

There were rumors of another "humanoid typhoon" rampaging nearby, so he walked in that direction. He hoped to shut down that man's misuse of his name by binding him with ropes and taking him to the sheriff's office, as he'd done with hundreds of other imposters during the last century.

He sighed. Would they never leave off hunting him, or abusing his name?

As much as he loved all people, ordinary humans and even criminals included, there were times when they frustrated him. The steady stream of bandits claiming his name was growing higher on that list of frustrations.

By early afternoon, he could see December in the distance. While in the neighborhood, he planned to visit Wolfwood's grave. That would come after tending the counterfeit typhoon, however.

When he topped the next dune, Vash saw at its base a tall man lying on his face by a backpack and the remains of a campfire. The fellow was wearing a red coat that was a fair imitation of the one folded at the bottom of his bag. There was blood in the sand. Twin tire tracks, as of a car, led away from the figure toward December.

Vash hurried down the dune, concerned for the health and safety of the prone figure. He reached the man's side, and turned him over.

He was too late to be of any service, aside from seeing that he was decently buried. The young man had been shot in the face, apparently across the nose since that feature was almost entirely missing. There were more bullet holes in the chest. It was impossible to tell which of those many bullets had killed him.

Desert scavengers, perhaps insects, appeared to have already taken his eyes. The hollow, empty sockets and the missing nose gave the corpse an eerie appearance.

This must be the impostor he'd come to hunt. Vash wished he'd reached the man before whomever had shot him. Then the man would have survived, and might have learned to live a better life. Unfortunately, for this impersonator, it was too late.

The body was partially stiff. Vash wasn't sure if rigor was setting in, or wearing off. Not that it made any difference to the victim. Dead was dead.

Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. He froze, considering it. He glanced over the unfortunate's body again, pondering the new possibility.

The man's leathers were visually closer to his own body armor than most, though the coat was somewhat off in its detailing. Of all the impostors he'd encountered, this one's face and general build was closest to his own. His face was exactly the correct shape, and without eyes or nose, few would know the difference strictly from a facial examination.

Those most likely to pierce the deception were far away in the Seeds ship village. Meryl, Milly, Livio, Kaite, Sheryl and Lina had all died decades ago, so they'd not be hurt by word of his death. Nor would they be available to identify the body.

The corpse already wore an earring that appeared similar to his own ear radio. There was a brace on the left arm, and that hand was artificial. If he put the authentic red coat onto this poor corpse, most people would believe that he himself had died.

The idea of deceiving so many people was uncomfortable. Yet Vash had grown weary of being hunted and having his name misused. If this worked, it might solve both problems without anyone else getting hurt.

He dug into his bag, and pulled out his own red coat. He missed wearing it. He'd not worn it since the day he first took Shyla to the Seeds ship village. Now that it came to the point, it was difficult to part with that faithful old duster. The tailor who made it had died, but his great-grandson was growing adept in the same skills. There could be a replacement, or perhaps even an improvement.

It was going for a good cause. It might even save lives. Vash sighed again, and began to make the necessary adjustments. The pockets contained his ID papers and information. Those details would lend credibility to the idea that it was he who lay there dead.

Swiftly he traded coats on the corpse, leaving the front open enough to help explain the chest injuries. He added his old sunglasses, the amber ones with the w's in the sides. He'd not worn them for a century, since they'd become a detail that people used to identify him. He turned the corpse back onto its face, and stood holding the counterfeit red coat in his hand.

In the distance, he could hear a car approaching. Perhaps those who killed this man were hoping for the bounty. If so, they were welcome to it.

Vash moved away, careful to blur out his footprints as he moved. The impostor's coat was useful for that. Behind the dune should be sufficient. It would put him out of sight, yet still permit him to overhear anything important that happened.

He succeeded in getting out of sight before the car arrived.

He heard the car approach, and the engine turn off. Car doors opened, and then closed. After a moment, he heard voices.

"See, sheriff?" a voice slurred. "We told ya that we killed him. Vash the Stampede, we got him dead. We was just celebrating a little before claiming the bounty."

"Hmm," said another voice. There was grunting, and sounds consistent with the body being turned face-up again. "Well, it certainly does look like him," the second voice continued after a pause. "His face is damaged enough, though, that it's hard to be completely sure."

"Oh, it's him all right," the slurred voice said. "We caught him by surprise, is all. You saw how Joe's arm was hurt, and Bill's leg. He did that. Fast one, but there was three of us and we was faster."

"Let's take him in," the second voice said. "We can examine him more closely in town."

Vash heard the sounds of a body being dragged, then the car creaking, and finally everyone got into the car and drove away.

If the ones who examined the body and made the verification didn't know much about his scars, this might work.

Vash turned away from the town toward the orphanage, stuffing the corpse's red coat into his duffel bag. After the suns had set and everyone was asleep, he would quietly visit Wolfwood's grave.

He walked most of the distance, until sunset began. He could just see the smudge of the buildings in the distance, no details yet. He sat down, fished a food package out of his duffel, and began to eat while he waited.

He paused in mid-bite, feeling a spike of intense emotional pain. Perhaps pain was too mild a word... this could qualify as agony. He knew it was not his own pain. Plants could sense strong emotion from each other at any distance. He knew exactly from whom it came, and he could guess why.

That was quicker than expected. Had the authorities grown as weary of hunting him as he was weary of being hunted?

Whatever the reason for the swift verification and announcement, that was of secondary importance.

He closed his eyes and carefully arranged his feelings. He wanted to send his love to Shyla, but not broadcast it to all other plants. He focused his mind and concentrated on narrowing the path where his emotions would be shared.

Thankfully, it took no special plant energy to feel emotions, or focus on a particular person with whom one wanted to share them. So this was not a life-threatening exercise.

He let himself feel his affection toward the girl full strength, editing out only the romantic inclinations that might make her feel uncomfortable. He passively sensed the direction where she was, and pictured her in his mind. He hoped that she alone would receive his proffered emotions. They didn't belong to anyone else. He concentrated on how much he cared for her.

After a moment, there was a brief flash of fear followed by a hesitant hope. Then he felt her affection and relief.

He shared his fond affection toward her again, and felt more relief from her along with more affection. He shared still more affection, with apology. He felt affection and forgiveness in return. He shared affection and caution. He felt affection and understanding coming from her.

He hoped she truly understood, and would not undeceive any more people than were absolutely necessary. She was intelligent enough to grasp the reasons why he would do such a desperate thing. Shyla could also help Rem to understand.

Not for the first time, Vash found himself wishing that Rem was also a plant. That way, he could share his affection with her directly as he did with Shyla. Yet he knew that he could trust Shyla to tell Rem. There was nothing to worry about. Rem was in good hands; Shyla would take care of her.

He sent affection again, and enjoyed Shyla's responding affection. Shyla was very good for him, even as a friend, he realized again. He shared his heartfelt gratitude with her, and felt more affection from her in return.

It was tempting to continue basking in the warmth of Shyla's affection, but too much of that when they were so far apart could attract attention where it was least wanted. So, with a sigh, he stopped. He could always access her memories if he really needed to feel her warm affection for him. There was plenty there.

He finished eating, and stowed the wrapper from the food package in his duffel. His fingertips brushed against the frame of a small photograph. He smiled at the memory, but chose not to pull it out. Rem had given him a copy of the picture he'd taken of Shyla, while she slept under the apple trees with apple blossom petals scattered across her shirt and hair, all those years ago. He treasured both the memory and the photo.

He had ample time before he needed to move. He closed his eyes and tipped back his head, spending a few minutes enjoying Shyla's memories of him that included her affection toward him. After perhaps a quarter of an hour he quivered, and immediately pulled himself out of her memories.

That was the one drawback of experiencing Shyla's memories. They came with an awareness of her body, since she was in her body when she lived them. Any awareness of her body frequently caused awkward side-effects in his.

His determination to protect her, even from himself when necessary, increased. Shyla had a right to enjoy her childhood without worries about things she'd not yet grown into wanting. No mater how many centuries that childhood lasted, it should be protected.

Especially since there's no way to know if she'd choose him, when ever she did grow inclined to make that kind of a choice. It's not like he had a lot to offer, he reminded himself wryly.

Word of his supposed death must have spread as far as the Seeds ship village already. Otherwise, she'd not have had such an intense surge of pain, or else it would not be so completely relieved just by learning that he still lived.

Perhaps in a few years, he could stay there. He should wait at least a decade or two, in case the village was watched. Yes, that would be wisest course, even though unpleasant. He would miss the peace of that place until he could return there again.

However, he could send word by letter. That would both set their minds at ease, and allow them in on the plan. Like Shyla, they would understand his reasons.

That would be his next task, after visiting his friend's grave. He would write another letter from "Nate Saverem" that indicated he knew all about the dead man.

The unknown man's body would be buried, possibly at the Seeds ship village, with a headstone proclaiming him as Vash the Stampede. Since the fellow had worked so hard to steal that name, it should please him that his theft had worked so well.

A tear trickled down Vash's cheek. Had the poor unfortunate, who would soon be buried under his name, ever known love like Vash received from Rem and Shyla? He wondered if the lack of such love might be part of the reason the man had gone wrong.

He mourned the dead man, sincerely, while the suns drooped toward the horizon and then behind it. He dried his tears, and waited just a little longer.

When Vash could see lights from the orphanage, he began walking that direction. It was nearly time to visit Wolfwood's grave. He could know more precisely when everyone turned in if he was a little nearer.

It would be a long night. If this ruse worked, though, the future might be brighter.

...

...

Note: _The visit to Meryl's house mentioned early in this chapter, along with a follow-up visit to Meryl's grave, is detailed in a free-verse poem titled "_Too Late_" also available here on fanfiction net._


	7. Remembrance

I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Remembrance**

Shyla stood by as they began the process of waking Rem from cryo sleep. She had persuaded them to let her take Rem home, and speak with her there about what had happened.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, which they expected and thought they understood. However, they were mistaken. Her tears were not of sorrow, but of joy.

His plan seemed to be working. The plan should set him free from the need to avoid this village that he called "home" simply to protect them from dangers that might be pursuing him. It should free him from being hunted. It should allow him to live as he wished, instead of being driven by necessity.

If he found that he _wanted_ to travel, she had no objection. What ever made him happiest was fine with her, though she missed him when he was away. The thing that she particularly disliked was the way he often seemed to want to stay, but felt obligated to leave. With that burden of obligation lifted, perhaps he could finally enjoy himself whether he stayed or journeyed.

She waited patiently while the procedures were checked and rechecked. She waited for Rem's body to thaw out, and for her eyelids to flutter open. She smiled back when Rem smiled at her.

"Is Vash coming again?" Rem asked. Suddenly, the solemn expressions on the faces surrounding her registered. She sat up. "Is something wrong?"

"Let's go home," Shyla said, deftly slipping her arm around the shorter woman's shoulders and encouraging her out of the waking room's door. "We can talk there."

Rem was still a bit sleepy, but she trusted Shyla enough to permit her to lead her to the small house they shared with Vash... when he was in town. Shyla firmly shut the door behind them, but left the curtains over the window slightly open. She knew they would be watched, so she needed to make sure the watchers saw what they expected.

She gestured to a comfortable chair, and Rem sat in it looking troubled. She knelt by the lady's feet, and took her hands.

"Listen to me very closely," she said softly. "We're being watched, so we must do this well. Vash is fine, he's alive. However, a body was recently found wearing his coat. The main Sheriffs' office has officially claimed that Vash was killed, and awarded the bounty. We must be seen to mourn him. It is the only way he can be free."

Rem's eyes widened, and she leaned forward. "He's faked his own death?" she whispered.

"Yes," Shyla said. "I would imagine he found a body that resembled himself enough for his coat to fit, and circumstances proceeded from there."

"Watched... by whom?" Rem asked.

"Everyone," Shyla answered. "Villagers, tourists, travelers that wandered off course and found themselves here... I don't think Vash wants the bulk of the village to know just yet. I'd imagine he's sending a letter."

Rem's face twitched, and then she screamed. She bent over and grabbed Shyla's shoulders, and wept.

"Thank you," Shyla said. She wept also, though from joy and relief instead of sorrow.

"You're sure he's all right?" Rem asked softly between loud sobs.

"You know how plants can share strong emotion over any distance?" Shyla said.

"Yes."

"He's been sharing."

"Thank heaven," Rem said.

After a while, it seemed that Shyla suddenly realized the curtains and window were open, and went over with a tear-streaked face to close both.

...

The village was not awarded the body for burial. It was believed better for the grave of the humanoid typhoon to be somewhere more prominent and centrally located. However, their request for his coat and earring was granted.

The plan was to hold a memorial celebration for Vash after receiving those two of his possessions.

Shyla had asked that she and Rem be present when the tokens were received. This was agreed. She also arranged a private conference with Rem and the one person who would be responsible to state definitively whether the medical records matched Vash... or not.

A careful purge had followed, removing all of Vash's medical data from the computers and the generally-accessible files. His information remained on hard copies, but those were all carefully hidden away.

The day came when the package would be delivered. All of the village council and elders were gathered in a moderately-sized conference room.

The messenger came, and stayed to watch and report results. They began to open the package, with such respect that it almost amounted to reverence. Seeing Vash's belongings treated with such honor made it easy for Shyla to cry appropriately.

The coat was recognized. The earring, however... she snatched it and concealed it in her hand before anyone else could get a good look at it.

She clutched it to her heart, crying. Vash had never worn it, but he may have touched it. Even if he hadn't, he'd been near it recently. That was enough to make it precious to her.

The elders gravely agreed that there was no doubt. That was indeed Vash's own red coat.

"And the earring, too?" the messenger asked.

Shyla was still crying, hard enough to excuse her not saying a word. She nodded, while silently asking forgiveness for the lie. She hoped God would understand that she did it to save lives. Hopefully the lives saved would include Vash's.

The messenger raised an eyebrow, as if uncertain whether she could know.

"That woman lived as a little sister to Vash when she was a child, at one of the places he lived in hiding," they told the messenger. "She would know, as well as any of us."

The messenger was satisfied, and left. Shyla saw Rem quietly close the door behind him. Rem's tears flowed down her face, but she wasn't racked with sobs the way Shyla was.

Shyla tried to contain her sobs, but she'd gotten herself going and it was difficult to stop.

"We should put his earring with his coat," one of the officials suggested. "They should both be hung in a glass case somewhere, to honor his memory."

Shyla shook her head, still struggling to stop crying.

"Dear child," one of the women said gently, "keeping the earring won't bring him back."

Rem came to her, and hugged her. "I must swear you all to secrecy," she said. "Shyla likely has good cause for what she's doing, and will explain as soon as she can calm herself a little more."

"Secrecy?" several muttered. "Why would anything about Vash need to be kept a secret, now?

Shyla opened her hand, and showed the false earring to Rem. She saw understanding in Rem's dark chocolate-colored eyes. "He must still be wearing it, then," she said, sounding pleased. "Oh, that is good news!"

They looked at her as if she were speaking a language they did not understand. The room was abruptly entirely silent and still.

"He wants the world to believe," Rem said. "Please, continue to behave as if both were authentic."

"Are you saying..." one of the elders began.

"Vash is alive," Rem said. "That could change, if he must keep running from bounty hunters and lawmen alike. Sooner or later, something terrible could happen to him."

"Why did you not tell us sooner?"

"He wants it kept a secret," Rem said. "Shyla says to expect a letter soon. He will probably maintain radio silence for a few years, and not visit during that time. Too many outsiders have learned that he calls this place home."

"Are you saying we should go through with the memorial service, even though he's not dead? It would be a mere charade!"

"Would you have him hunted and hounded until someone succeeds in killing him?" Rem's voice was so intense that the protesting speaker took a step backward.

"No," came the chastened reply.

"Please," Rem said, "Do all as you would if he were truly dead. Hold in your hearts the secret of his survival. Honor him, and honor his wish. Let him live quietly, until he can live here in peace."

"Is not a memorial service designed to celebrate the life of the departed one we miss?" Rem continued. "Must we wait to honor him until his departure is death, and not merely distance?"

The elders looked at one another, and slowly they began to nod. "We will honor his wish," the spokesperson said with finality.

"Please tell as few as possible," Rem asked, quietly respectful again. "There's less opportunity for a stray word to betray him if only a very few know."

"Of course," the spokesperson replied. "Let's get on with it, then."

...

The service was beautiful. The entire village turned out to honor him. A memorial stone was carved and set in a prominent place. His red coat was hung in a glass case just inside the entrance to the ship. The false earring was quietly put away.

Reporters and curious tourists had swelled the ranks of the crowd. Several news cameras were unashamedly scanning the faces in the crowd.

Before the day came, Shyla had hoped Vash might try blending into the crowd, to smuggle himself in for a visit. Now she hoped he was anywhere else but here.

If one of those cameras saw his face... she quieted herself within, and sensed the direction and distance of his presence. Ah, good, he was some distance away. Weeks, at least, would be required for him to arrive even if he traveled in a straight line to reach them.

He was in no danger from these cameras, at least. That was a relief.

What remained highly uncomfortable was the prominent place she and Rem held in the service. She had avoided any need to speak, but Rem would be speaking and Shyla would be staying nearby to support her and show everyone that she mourned Vash's passing.

It was a long, trying day under the blazing suns. They got through it, with Rem breaking down and crying as she spoke her part. It was a blessed relief to get home, away from all the crowds.

...

"Thank God that's over," Shyla said fervently.

Rem chuckled. "It did make for a long day," she agreed. "Mind if I sleep here tonight, normally, and return to cryo sometime tomorrow?"

"You're always welcome here," Shyla said. "Surely you know that by now?"

Rem smiled. "Yes, I know it," she said. "In fact, I think I'll stay long enough to deal with the bulk of the mourners and well-wishers, so you needn't face them all alone. Then I'll rest until we can see our Vash again."

"That sounds like a good plan," Shyla agreed.

In her heart, she felt it might be a much longer wait than she wanted. However, that was less important than knowing he was free. Precautions should still be taken, of course. Yet hereafter, he would be free. That was most important.

Comforted by that thought, she wished Rem a good night, and went into her own room to rest. She would dream of Vash's return.

...

...

...

...

... _continued in VQL#4,_ "Vash, Vindicated"


End file.
